Shadows of the past
by Potterlove2002
Summary: I'm pretty bad in writing summaries...but this story is pretty much about how Harry and the others cope with death,loss,love and all of the things which left them with permanently scarred minds.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note: Hi guys! I've been wanting to write something about Fred and George ever since Fred's death in Deathly Hallows. Hope you like this one-shot and intimate moment between the two brothers. Please review, even if it is criticism. I'm always open to suggestions :)**

 **Disclaimer: All these characters belong to the illustrious J.K Rowling.**

Harry had been waiting for a long time, almost a year for this moment. He had kept the thing for the right time and he had told no one about this, not even Ron and Hermione.

It was the month of January, 1999. Eight months since the Battle of Hogwarts. The memories of May 2nd, 1998 were blurry for him. Maybe he wanted them to be a bit faded. So much loss, so much information to process, so much exhaustion, so much of burden on his shoulders being weighed on and off at the same time. But it didn't matter if he wanted the memories to be faded or not, the stabs of feelings were still very acute. The pain, the thrill, the revelation and most of all – the feeling of being young again. For eight years he always had Voldemort at the back of his mind. All the bloody time. But now he was not under those bonds. He was a free man. He had amidst all the shock and despair after the battle, managed to find some amount of considerable happiness and peace. He had Ginny and of course, Ron and Hermione, who, for 8 years had never, not even once, left his side. He was grateful to everyone for making him feel so warm and loved. But he always felt guilt. The guilt came in tumbling so suddenly at night that he would wake up, face bathed with sweat and his sheets all twisted up. He would pant and try to convince himself that it wasn't, _it wasn't_ his fault. But all the casualties…they died for him didn't they? Because of him didn't they? Was he better than Voldemort? He tried to keep those thoughts away. But they just came back. Every damn night. He needed some solid evidence to console himself. He was frustrated with himself for not being able to escape nightmares even after the war. In fact, it seemed as if the nightmares became more vivid. Green flashes of light and people getting killed, magical creatures being wounded, the walls of his beloved school getting crumbled. It was all so ghastly. That's why he felt so relieved today. Apprehensive, yes, but also relived. He was finally going to give those people who cared for him, who had fought for him, something in return.

On that dark night of May 2nd, 1998, while he was going to the Forbidden Forest, he had that dark stone with him. The stone that had given him the courage to go and face his death. He had never thrown away the resurrection stone. He had neither used it nor forgotten about it. But it was about time that he gave it to someone who needed it…badly. Harry had waited for 8 months because he didn't want the wound of losing someone to become re-opened so soon. He wanted that person to get stabilized, to accept the fact that his brother was gone. He wanted George to feel happy about this and not sad.

Now, as Harry looked at the small stone in his hand, he hoped desperately that it would work out how he wanted it to. But he thought that it was only fair for George to have some alone time with Fred for a while. He called George inside one of the rooms of the house which he was temporarily living in. Harry saw how haggard George looked, much better since May but nonetheless he looked thinner and the customary grin on his face was a bit forced.

"What's up mate? You haven't got another Dark Lord to defeat do ya?" George joked.

Harry didn't say anything. He walked towards George and then opened up his palm and put the stone there.

"I hope you utilize this time." Harry said. And with that he left the room and George was left there with a puzzled look on his face.

And then George saw him. _Him._ And it was like someone had pushed him back into time. Flashes of memory came flooding to him. Fred and him playing pranks on their mother, pulling Percy's leg, on the Quidditch field together, bunking Snape's classes, scaring Ron with spiders, Weasely's Wizarding Wheezes. The magnitude of the memories hitched George's breath and for a moment he thought that it was all fake. But then Fred came towards him with that goofy grin on his face, and he understood that this silvery, spitting image of his brother, _was_ his brother. They were identical, so much so that even their mother had difficulty sometimes to tell them apart. But it was only now that George realized how much he wanted to memorize every part of Fred's face, every single curve and angle of his face. All those months separated, all those months feeling as if someone had taken his heart and had thrown it away after passing a knife through it. His heart was bleeding, and seeing Fred made his heart bleed even more. When he looked in the mirror, he always saw himself… never Fred. And _this_ was Fred. This ghostly boy waving at him was Fred. And George didn't want to even blink his eyes in case Fred vanished. He wanted to see him even if the hot tears pressing at the back of his eyes threatened to blur his vision.

"Georgie. Long time" Fred said.

"Long? Long?" George whispered after a pause. "It's been ages. Ages since you left me. It's been a living hell."

"C'mon, it couldn't be that bad. You get our room to yourself now."

"Does….does this seem funny to you? I've been trying everything I could to forget you. To erase you, because it's too hard. It's _so_ hard." George's knees shook and he collapsed to the ground, his sobs uncontrollable, and the tears falling hot and fast.

"George." Fred said in a soft voice. "George, look at me."

George looked up painfully.

"You know you couldn't ever forget me. Even if you tried to, you couldn't. I know that."

"Please come back. Just come. I-I can't stand it anymore. P-please. _Please_." George whispered, barely audible.

"George, this is my spirit form. I am not real."

"You're not even bloody real… WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE? I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU. GO AWAY! LEAVE!" George's hands shook and his voice trembled with tension and he broke down again.

A silence passed for so long that George thought Fred had actually gone…forever, leaving him shaking and sobbing. But then he looked up and Fred's shimmering form was still there, smiling at him.

"Are you happy about this Fred? Do you not want to be with me?"

"How can I be happy without you?" After a pause Fred continued, "I love you George. That will never change, but I'm dead and it's time you accept it. I already have and it doesn't affect me anymore."

"No….don't leave me." George croaked.

"I'm not. I never have."

"Then why did you?" George whispered softly.

"It wasn't my choice. Any of this. But this was my fate and this is yours. Seeing you like this…it hurts so much. I want you to be happy, not this state that you've worked yourself up too." said Fred and walked closer towards George, looking directly into his eyes. "There is much I want to say. But it can wait. We shall meet one day, again."

George felt like his heart was getting slashed into tiny, fragmented pieces. How could he live? How could he want to live?

"Are you happy Fred?"

"I am. But I will be waiting for our reunion."

George couldn't find words to spill out from his dry mouth.

"Mum's changed so much." He said in a choked voice after some time.

"That cannot be helped. I bet mum's worrying if I have my meals properly in heaven."

A strained smile etched itself on George's face.

"You really are a prat…even in ghost form."

"Who said I changed?"

"I love you Fred."

"I love you too."

A pause.

"What do I do now? George asked, looking at Fred with bloodshot eyes.

"You let go." Fred whispered.

"This is it?"

"I'll be waiting for you. Let go now."

Another pause

"G-goodbye Fred."

"Goodbye."

And with that George dropped the stone from his palm and Fred was gone. He knelt on the ground and the tears kept on falling, washing his face. His shoulders shook and he grabbed his hair with his hands and balled them into fists. And as he closed his eyes he kept on repeating the same thing over and over again- "Fred."


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors note: So this is a one-shot of Draco and how he feels after this war. I've included Astoria Greengrass because I was always intrigued by their chemistry. J.K Rowling never mentioned it in much detail … so this just my imagination of how they possibly met. Thank you Luna, SaranyaM7092, Guest, Wani and potterhead90 for reviewing. It really means a lot to me. Hope you like this chapter and please, please review!**

 **Disclaimer: All the characters belong to the illustrious J.K Rowling.**

His pale, golden yellow hair flicked across his face and with an impatient hand he brushed them away, resuming to his disturbing thoughts.

The same question revolved around Draco's mind again and again. "Am I bad or am I good?" It was like the infinity sign, a never ending game he played with himself.

Sometimes he thought it would drive him insane. Sometimes he would get revolted at himself, at the person who he was and how foolish and weak he had been. His life wasn't supposed to be like this. He was a Malfoy - someone to be feared and respected. Things were supposed to _come_ to him. He wasn't supposed to go and beg people for forgiveness. It was all so wrong. It was unfair that his perfect world came to such an abrupt end. The golden bubble, in which he had been living in, pricked so suddenly that it was like someone had grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against a wall so hard that his breath got suffocated. His whole secured and planned life had come tumbling down, piece by piece until he was left with nothing but shards of a broken, confused heart. How was he supposed to cope with the guilt of murdering someone? Did anyone ever even bother to ask him whether he wanted to do this? It was like someone had bounded him in chains and he was forced to do whatever the Dark Lord said. Seeing his arch enemy stand up to this Lord made him feel green with jealousy. Jealousy for not being able to have that courage, jealousy for not being able to make choices like him, jealousy because he could not escape this horrid life in which he had been born into.

The will to live had somehow, in the past couple of months, left him. His regret, confusion and shame of living his life like he had for the past 7 years, made him drained of energy. He had honestly tried to become better but now it struck him- It was too late. Too late to repent or show gratitude to his enemy. He was a coward and this thought refused to leave.

"I don't want to live like this." Draco murmured to himself, his head resting against the wall of his room.

From downstairs he heard his mother calling him for lunch.

"Coming mother." Draco shouted back and sleepily got up from his bed. It was as if his bones weren't working and they too had lost their will to work anymore.

His mother was waiting for him at the table. Draco took a good lake at the pale, white face before him- the sunken sockets, the dark circles, the thin bones and the thinning yellow hair which outlined her head. He thought of all the risks his mother took for him and how much she had sacrificed. Draco felt a love for his mother so strong at that moment that he had to look away. He had to. Because this was probably the last time he was seeing her… and if he looked for an instant more, his heart might just explode.

He ate his lunch quietly, not meeting his mother's eyes for more than a second. His mother was talking about some family that would visit today and how they had two pretty daughters. But Draco's mind was not in the conversation. He was thinking about his death. The death which he would bring to himself.

-x-

Sounds of indistinct chattering and wine glasses clinking could be heard below. But all Draco registered were the murmurs of his own voice, repeating the same thing –"You're a coward."

Draco's heart was beating so hard that he could hear it thumping against his own chest. He took a last look at his room before he proceeded to the terrace. In a daze he walked to over to the ledge of the wall and looked down. Their mansion was big as well as tall and a drop from this height was bound to kill him. His legs shook as he climbed up the ledge, droplets of sweat lining his face. His hands were trembling and he willed himself not to look down.

"It's only a jump….and then I'm dead. I won't feel much pain. It'll be very quick." He told himself.

A million confusing emotions were choking Draco and it was as if he would lose his mind. "I want this to end." He softly cried. "On three…1….2…..

"WAIT! What do you think you're doing?! GET DOWN!" a girl cried.

Draco stood stock-still. He turned around to see a girl whom he had never seen in his life before. She had raven black hair draped over her shoulders and she stood confidently against the frame of the door to the terrace. Her almond shaped eyes, which were thickly outlined with eyeliner, seemed to bear into his eyes with such ferocious intensity that Draco found it hard to meet her gaze. She was wearing glamorous dress robes and in the evening light she truly looked like a regal queen.

"What are you doing here?" asked Draco, his voice hoarse.

"I might as well ask you the same question." She replied briskly.

"I-" and suddenly Draco found it impossible to continue. How could he even begin to explain all the conflicting emotions which led him to this state? He shakily got down from the ledge and sat down on the terrace, head buried in his knees.

The girl walked towards him slowly.

"I'm such a coward." Draco whispered.

"No. Escaping from your difficulties is being a coward. But you didn't jump" The girl said, sitting down beside him.

"You don't even know me."

"I know who exactly you are. I was two years your junior at Hogwarts."

Draco looked up with bloodshot eyes and stared at her.

"Astoria" she said holding out her hand."

"Draco." He said shaking her hand.

"I'm a bad guy. You don't want to be near me." He said

The girl neither moved nor spoke. After a pause she spoke.

"I've been through stuff too you know." She said and looked down. "But…you…you… can't just leave everything and everyone. You can't just give up. Things will get better soon."

"I wish I could believe that."

"I believe you will...someday. Just give it some time. I don't think you're a coward."

"And what made you think such a thing?" Draco asked

"I can see it. Making mistakes is not cowardice. We all make them…it's just how we cope with them that counts."

There was a slight pause.

"I was meant to kill Dumbledore." He blurted out suddenly. He waited for her to cringe away but she just stayed there.

"But you didn't did you?" she asked.

Draco shook his head.

"We both were born into families who followed the wrong ideals. I understand how you feel. There are some incidents in my life which I would dearly like to change." She said and closed her eyes for an instant. "I just want to make my future count and somehow….I'll repay for the mistakes I made. All I know is that suicide isn't the way out."

Draco stared ahead. He didn't feel like saying anything. They both sat in the silence.

"Shall we go downstairs? I believe my parents are wondering what I'm doing in the bathroom so long." She said after a while and laughed.

Slowly a smile crept on Draco's face. "You won't tell anyone will you?" he asked her.

"I wouldn't dream of it." And with that she got up and held out her hand to Draco and he took her warm hand into his own. And in the fading evening light you could see a boy and a girl walking slowly towards the door and into the house, hands clasped together.


End file.
